Stand with me

I know I am just a white male

standing in a time of

fractured reconciliation,

but I stand with tears

and I stand with hope,

and I dare not speak

but I know I must.


Stand with me please 

and hold my hand 

like my mother did when

I was six; and do not

walk away in scorn—

which you could do

without regret—

but stand instead

by my side and look ahead

right through the smoke

to the days not broken,

to the ways unsaid.